


The Curse of the Wolf

by DeepBlueJoy



Category: Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), NCIS
Genre: Gen, NFA WEE 2018
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-30
Updated: 2018-06-30
Packaged: 2019-05-31 07:52:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15114983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeepBlueJoy/pseuds/DeepBlueJoy
Summary: Leroy Jethro Gibbs has discovered the supernatural... and the lasting consequences of one mistake. It's time to break free! *Sequel to: You Don't Waste Good.





	1. The Curse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flootzavut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flootzavut/gifts).



> THIS STORY IS A DIRECT SEQUEL TO THE STORY ' **[You Don't Waste Good](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13243917)   
>  **Please read that one first!****

Disclaimer: Needless to say, I don't own Buffy, Angel, NCIS or any of the other worlds that might be alluded to or mentioned in this story. I do own the story and all original characters.

____

 

**IMPORTANT NOTE: THIS STORY IS A DIRECT SEQUEL TO THE STORY 'YOU DON'T WASTE GOOD'. Please read that one first!

_This is a Turned from Darkness side story_

* * *

** One Year Ago **

 

Drusilla Carpentier-Debreno usually didn’t have visions during mass. Usually, the mass was one time during her week that she could count on to have quiet moments, shielded from the supernatural – other than the One she’d come to worship, that was. Maybe that was what it was, the presence of God, of the faithful who were gathered served to hold back the rest of it. Whatever it was, Dru didn’t know why, but as useful as visions could be, they could also be quite intrusive, and Dru was grateful for the respite. Peace. 

Before she had fought for the return for her soul, the visions and other supernatural messages seemed to come whenever they wanted to. Uncontrolled. Invasive. Profoundly intrusive. Not even the PTSD from Angelus’ torment rivaled the visions’ capacity for disorientation. Of course, when she’d been psychotic, distinguishing one from the other had been all but impossible. And it was hard not to be profoundly damaged when you were a pious, faithful novitiate, who’d been wickedly violated and turned by one of the worst vampires to walk the earth. 

But that had been years and several battles to save the world ago. Dru was sane, her mind no longer fractured. The miracle of becoming a slayer and all that it had brought had changed things so much, that even those ‘in the know’ didn’t always recognize that she was still, very much, a supernatural being. The visions were easier to bear, though they still came at unpredictable; sometimes inconvenient times. Just never in church that she could remember. That was why what happened when she turned to shake hands with the woman standing next to her in the pew, during the sign of peace, caught her completely by surprise. She smiled, automatically. Then she felt searing pain as bullets kicked her in the chest, causing her to fall. Except it wasn’t Dru who fell, though she stumbled, and gasped, inadvertently gripping the woman’s hand just a bit too hard. She felt herself falling, and felt the searing pain through her head that faded to blackness, the vision ended so abruptly it could only mean one thing. Dru opened her eyes to pained, yet concerned eyes. She schooled her emotions as well as she could. 

“Ow!” The woman gasped out, clearly in pain.

“So sorry,” said Dru, immediately loosening her grip. “Did I hurt you?”

The woman, surprisingly, didn’t let go.

“I’m fine! Are you OK?” asked the woman, putting her left hand on Dru’s shoulder, still holding her right hand loosely; though Dru knew the woman’s fingers must hurt quite a lot. Supernatural strength could do a lot of damage. Dru forced herself to breathe normally – though, of course, being a vampire, she didn’t need to breathe at all. She would have pulled away, but more images flitted through her mind, almost flooding her. There was only one reason that would happen. This woman needed her help. Most of what she saw involved violence, but a few also featured images of people, including, inexplicably, the President of the United States. An aircraft. No. Not just any aircraft. This must be Air Force One! This woman was clearly involved in some kind of law enforcement. Secret Service? Or something else. Dru pulled away. She’d have to find an excuse to talk to the woman after mass. 

“I’m fine. I’m sorry I hurt you,” Dru said. She took that opportunity to give the woman a hug, gritting her teeth for what she suspected was going to be an onslaught. Instead, she felt a lurch, as if the whole world had suddenly gone sideways, and opened her eyes in shock as the world righted itself almost painfully. For just a moment before the vision faded, was a face, up close, filling her vision. The face of a concerned-looking, handsome older man. A flood of (borrowed) arousal filled her, and she knew that whoever that man was, he had to be significant to this woman. As she pulled away, there was an image of, inexplicably, a giant cowboy boot. The next image, fleeting as it was, told of a much more immediate threat. Vampires.

Dru pulled away from the woman, smiling, and turned to pick up her hymnal.

Of course, since she urgently wanted to talk to the woman, she never got the chance. She’d turned away to greet someone else at the end of the mass, and by the time she and Patrick had exchanged pleasantries with friends, the woman was long gone.

* * *

**Sub Rosa**

 

“You want us to watch a Navy cop?” asked Buffy.

“Just for a little while,” said Dru. 

“What did you see?” asked Buffy.

“That she’s in danger… and that they really need a little nudge.”

“They? I thought it was just this woman. What’s her name?”

“Caitlin Todd. She goes to my church.”

“So, why don’t you watch her?”

“I think it would raise a lot of questions if she thought I was following her – and her boss. She doesn’t know you or Spike.”

“That makes sense,” said Buffy.

“Besides, it gives me an excuse to get you and Spike to come visit us,” said Dru. 

“You only had to ask,” said Buffy, her voice amused.

“I only had to ask the busiest slayer in the world to come for a visit? How many times have we invited you, again?”

“We’re really doing this?” asked Buffy, pretending to sound put upon. Spike hovered nearby, grinning at her and trying to tickle her. 

“Just because I gave you my blessing with my vampire doesn’t mean you can hide him away forever, luv!”

“Your… Do I need to watch my back, now?” Buffy sat on Spike, trying to pin him down with one leg and her free hand, and not to gasp as his fingers alternated between tickles and light caresses.

“I think Patrick would be quite upset if I left him,” said Dru, with a laugh.

“Probably,” said Buffy. “And we couldn’t be friends if you took Spike back!”

Dru giggled.

“That would be a pity,” said Dru. “You’re my favorite slayer.”

“You’re just saying that because I’m your boss,” said Buffy. “The boss you’re giving assignments.”

“You’re the one who said you should always listen to the seer,” said Dru, lightly.

“Touché,” said Buffy. “You win again.”

“The seer always wins,” said Dru. “It’s part of my mystery.”

* * *

** Present time **

 

“You want me to come with you and help rebuild a house?” asked Gibbs.

“Remember a while back, there was that house that exploded in Arlington?” said Kate.

“The big gas leak?”

“That was the one,” said Kate. “Actually, turns out, it was blown up.”

“Yeah, I heard. That was a while ago,” said Gibbs.

“Well, someone loaned them a house in Cleveland Park, but the owner got married, and now she’s back in town full time – I think maybe she’s going to start a family – anyway, the family wants to go back to Virginia for their kids to start school in the fall…”

“Hmmm. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a house-raising down here,” said Gibbs.

“They didn’t want a handout,” said Kate, shrugging. “Abby’s good friends with Dru. Apparently, Dru offered to pay to rebuild the house, but they wouldn’t take her money.”

“Someone offered them money and they wouldn’t take it?”

“Yup. They’re not fond of charity or something,” said Kate, with a shrug. “Anyway, Dru convinced them to let her and some of her friends help them rebuild instead.”

“And now they’re calling for volunteers?”

“Yes,” said Kate. “They have help, but they need a few more people with real carpentry experience so they can get it finished on time. Apparently, they got interrupted by some project or something… and now they’re behind. Fortunately, one of Dru’s friends is a builder and they’ve got a lot of the basics taken care of,” said Kate. “But they want to finish it so it’s not a big rush. Well, anyway, I thought it would be fun for us to help out.”

“I’ll do it,” said Gibbs. 

Gibbs and Kate had been spending a lot of time together in the months since the night they’d been attacked by vampires on their way back from Norfolk. They hadn’t really talked about it, or tried to define what was going on between them. This would be the first time they would be socializing – if this could be called socializing – as a couple. Gibbs was a bit wary. He knew Abby would figure things out, if she hadn’t already. 

He stopped abruptly; standing in front of the elevator, staring blankly at the doors.

The fact that this request was coming through Kate was actually telling. Yes, Abby and Kate were close, and they apparently went to church with this woman with the improbable name of Drusilla; but unless Abby was planning to ask for his help directly as well, Gibbs suspected she’d already done the math and came up with the correct answer. Did that mean that Dinozzo had figured it out as well? Well, crap. It wasn’t easy to keep secrets from a bunch of talented investigators and he hadn’t been trying all that hard. Just not saying anything. 

He sighed and got on the elevator.

There were no rules against agents dating, but Kate was officially his subordinate. This could get messy for all the reasons he should never have gotten together with Jenny and then some. He and Jenny had been partners. Both of them had reported to a superior. Kate actually reported to him. Sooner or later, he was going to have to face things. Unless they wanted to keep things ‘officially’ secret, eventually, either their relationship or their partnership at work would have to end. He was going to have to talk to her about it. Probably sooner than either of them had planned.

________

 

**Visions**

 

It was late afternoon, and Gibbs was feeling very pleased with the work he’d done. He and Xander had made a great deal of progress with the kitchen. They’d worked much better together than he’d expected when they’d first met. Xander had an almost rakish air, and a tendency toward bad jokes, but he worked hard, and he was an excellent craftsman. They’d found a rhythm and time had flown by. It was hard work, of course, but he’d forgotten just how satisfying it was to do physical work, just how good it was at clearing the mind of cobwebs and petty worries. He’d been surprised when Xander had encouraged him to take a break.

“Have you had lunch?”

“Lunch?”

“It’s almost four,” said Xander. “You should eat.”

“What about you?”

“I’m gonna go hang out with my girl for a bit,” said Xander, his face lighting up.

“Ahh,” said Gibbs, smiling. “You’re right. I need a break.”

“There’s a table out back. One thing about being on any job with sl- these guys... Great food and lots of it!”

“Sounds like my kind of job,” said Gibbs, wondering momentarily what it was that Xander had been about to say.

As he headed outside, he realized it had been hours since he’d stopped to catch his breath. Xander was right, there were two tables, and even hours after lunch, there was still a substantial pile of food – and it smelled delicious. He reached past Dru to set his tool belt on the bench, and his hand brushed Dru’s arm. She jerked violently away from him as if she’d been burned. He turned to stare, but her eyes were tightly closed, her face a grimace.

___

 

The flash of pain and rage that Dru felt pass through her was so dark, so intense, she actually stumbled. Then she grasped her head.

“Too much! It’s all too much,” Dru muttered, her breaths coming in gulps. 

The man Gibbs had been introduced to earlier as Patrick came round the side of the house at a dead run, and caught her as she swayed. It was almost as if he’d known something was wrong. But that was impossible.

“Dru, sweetheart!” He wrapped his arms around her. “You OK?”

“I… darkness… I felt so much darkness,” she said. 

Then she seemed to pull herself together, smiling up at him. Patrick released her, but remained hovering within a fingertip’s reach, looking worried.

“What are you talking about?” asked Gibbs, immediately on alert. “It’s the middle of the day.”

Dru, who’d moved over to the bench and sat down, just stared up at him, almost as though she was looking past him… or _into_ him. Inexplicably she uttered words he was horrified to recognize.

_"She was just an old thing… it's about time she died, anyway."_

Although the voice was female, the tone had the same cold inflection he’d heard from his classmate that day all those years ago.

“Oh god,” said Gibbs. “How?”

“So you remember?” Her eyes had an odd intensity and Gibbs had to force himself not to look away.

“Yes,” said Gibbs, not trusting himself to say anything else. How could she know this? He’d never told another soul about that day. It had been an ugly handful of moments on an otherwise uneventful day. The fact that he’d never spoken to his classmate again after that day had made it easier to bury it. 

“Now I understand!” said Dru, cryptically. She stood as she bellowed out: “Buffy!”

“Understand what?” asked Gibbs, glancing at Dru. As he spoke, another woman arrived, smaller and blonder. Familiar. In spite of the daylight and the months that had passed. “Wait! You’re her!”

“I understand why Kate’s still in danger. Why your wife died,” said Dru softly.

Gibbs’ head snapped around, Buffy completely forgotten forgotten. Now he stared at Dru; horrified and suspicious.

“Kate’s in danger? Wait! What?! Howdoyouknowaboutmywife?” Gibbs grabbed Dru’s arm. “No one knows about that!”

Dru’s eyes fluttered closed and she took a deep, shuddering breath. Her husband’s own sudden intake of breath was oddly, almost simultaneous.

“Please Mr. Gibbs! Let her go,” he said; a firm hand on Gibbs’ arm. “Please, you’re hurting her.”

“I’m sorry!” said Gibbs, realizing that he’d grabbed a near stranger, who was probably not a threat; in spite of whatever it was she seemed to know.

“It’s OK, Patrick,” said Dru, gently reaching for Gibbs’ hand. “I think we’re going to have to deal with this a bit more directly. I believe… I do believe our friend has a rather nasty curse on him.” 

For some reason, her accent sounded even more pronounced – and more English than before.

A curse?  
 


	2. The Curse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leroy Jethro Gibbs has discovered the supernatural... and the lasting consequences of one mistake. It's time to break free! *Sequel to: You Don't Waste Good.

** Stillwater, PA, one year before Gibbs’ mother’s death. **

 

“You coming with me, Jethro?” asked Jim, one of Gibb’s classmates, who was already dressed for hunting.

“I guess,” said Gibbs. “I’m done with my chores.”

“Well, you’re the best shot I know. My dad said something’s been eating his chickens.”

“You think we’re gonna find a coyote or something? I thought we were gonna be hunting deer.”

“No idea what it is! Just want it to stop, right? Maybe we can bag a deer too?”

“Sure,” said Gibbs, suddenly wondering why he was agreeing to this. Jim wasn’t one of his best friends, but he and Gibbs had one thing in common. They both liked to hunt. Gibbs was always glad for a reason to practice his shooting, and if something was eating his neighbor’s chickens; then why not put a stop to it? 

It seemed like hours that they wandered in deeper into the forested, unmaintained land adjoining Jim’s family farm, looking for signs of anything. Then they both heard it. A howl. It seemed almost musical, and it came from direction they were heading anyway. Even as they walked faster, the howl was answered by another, off to the right some distance away. Jim rushed ahead, but Gibbs moved more slowly, keeping an eye out for surprises. Suddenly Jim stopped, and Gibbs stopped beside him. 

“See anything?” asked Gibbs.

“Only that old guy,” said Jim. “It sounded like the first coyote was right on top of him, but I don’t see anything.”

“Well, I don’t think he’s hunting,” said Gibbs.

“Yeah, no gun. What’s he doing all the way out here? He’s gonna get himself killed.”

“I dunno,” said Gibbs, non-committal. “I think maybe that’s his cabin.”

A thin wisp of smoke curled from the cabin, about thirty feet behind where the man walked; his stride long and loping; his weathered face slightly upturned. His shoulder length, silvery hair caught in the breeze. His hair was silver, but he moved with the lightness of a much younger man.

“He should have a gun,” said Jim.

“He seems like he’s comfortable out here,” said Gibbs, shrugging, but suddenly uneasy.

“Yeah, I guess,” said Jim, sulkily. Gibbs was remembering just why he hadn’t spent much time with Jim lately. He always seemed so angry, agitated. He just wasn’t that much fun to be around. Gibbs decided he was ready to go home. He was about to say that, when Jim swore, panicked. “Ohhh shiiit!”

Everything in his body went on alert, and Gibbs saw the next several seconds almost in slow motion. The man was moving slowly. Relaxed. Comfortable. Unaware. Suddenly a fast moving flash of grey appeared behind the man, each bound bringing the threat closer, and Gibbs didn’t hesitate. He perceived the danger. He fired. The enormous wolf or coyote – he wasn’t sure which – fell, mid-stride, twitched, and lay still. Suddenly everything was moving in normal speed again. The man wheeled around, rushing toward the creature so very still on the ground. The two boys couldn’t help themselves, they moved forward toward the man, who now cradled the dead creature in his arms. At the edge of the clearing, the two boys watched, crouched behind some bushes.

“No…. Mischie. No no no no nononono. Please, please, don’t leave me! Oh goddessno… alltheseyears. All these years… I can’t lose you after all these years! You’re not supposed to leave me like this…please Mischie!” His words came out in a rush of pain and grief. Whatever else he said was lost in his misery, his face buried in her fur as he sobbed.

“Oh god,” said Gibbs softly. What did I do? He took a step forward, but Jim stopped him.

“Leave it! We don’t want to get into trouble! It’s just a dog or coyote or whatever. It’s not like it’s _that_ big a deal!”

Gibbs just stared at the man lost in his grief and he felt sick. He was completely unaware of the tears that began to run down his own face, even though Gibbs wasn’t the type of boy to cry much. Men didn’t cry, at least, that was what he’d grown up believing. He’d certainly never seen a grown man cry like that before. Not even when old Eddie O’Malley had lost his wife in that terrible car accident the year before. And everyone knew they were really close.

His companion was speaking again, his voice cold and pitiless. _"She was just an old thing… it's about time she died, anyway."_

At that moment, the man looked up, and Gibbs could swear he looked straight at them, though they were some distance away and in the shadows of trees. Then slowly, the man stood, the enormous lupine creature cradled in his arms like a baby. He held her as if she was everything, but weighed nothing. Then one large hand came up to cover the leaking wound, and then inexplicably, the man raised his bloody palm, fingers splayed, his face anguished. He took a step forward – toward where they were watching, hidden. He couldn’t possibly see them, could he?! Jim gasped, and turned and ran. 

Gibbs stood riveted to the spot for a moment longer, as the man abruptly turned and headed toward the roughhewn cabin with the large coyote in his arms. Gibbs turned and ran. He ran all the way back home, not stopping until he was in his room, the door locked behind him for the first time ever. When his mother called him for dinner, he didn’t answer. After a while, she called again. Then his father came and knocked on the door, asking what was wrong. Gibbs just grunted, but didn’t really answer and he didn’t come out of the room that night. He just turned out the light, and lay on his bed staring at the shadows on the ceiling until the sun came up.

He never spoke of what had happened in the woods. He only saw Jim one more time that summer. From a distance. Jim saw him, and turned away, walking quickly back toward his farm. Gibbs hadn’t been looking forward to talking to him anyway. He made no effort to follow the sour-faced red-haired boy. The next time he found himself near their farm, it was deserted. No signs of life, animal or human. Gibbs had no idea what had happened. No one seemed to know, but the house remained deserted for years, gradually falling in on itself. His mom, who usually talked about the comings and goings of their small town, had nothing to say about Jim or his family. Gibbs never found a reason to ask. 

________

 

**Notification**

On his knees in the Kuwait desert heat, Gibbs found himself sobbing, his hands scrabbling for purchase against the empty bare desert ground before him. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen. The soldiers were supposed to come to his door, tell his family _he_ was gone. He was the one who was supposed to die. For a moment, his mind flashed back to a grey haired man with those piercing eyes, and suddenly he knew the same overwhelming grief. He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t. The darkness rose up to meet him, though his eyes were open and he didn’t fall. It rose up as surely as if he were falling; and it swallowed him whole. 

_______

 

** Now **

“Jethro!” His eyes opened. Awareness returned. He found himself an observer in a drama that was, uncomfortably, all about him. There were five people in front of him, gazing at him with variations of the same concerned expression. Dru and her husband, the large dark man, as substantial as his wife appeared frail, though instinct warned Gibbs she was far more than she appeared. There was the blond couple from the country dance club, looking awkward but alert and ready, something almost feline about their demeanor. Caitlin. She just stared, concerned, puzzled, as always, deceptively composed. “You OK, Jethro?”

“No,” He stood up. When had he sat down? “I’m not OK.”

“No, he’s really not,” said Dru, a concerned, serious expression on her face.  
 


	3. Solutions, mixtures and suspensions…

“You want me to take you back there? To where I killed that coyote? That was years ago!”

Gibbs stared at the dark haired woman before him and the agitation within him grew. The building party had gone on without them. Dru had demanded they talk, and for some reason, Kate had encouraged him to do it. They were sitting in a very nicely appointed house in the Cleveland Park neighborhood of Washington, DC, a home that nevertheless bore bright, happy signs that children lived there.

“It’s the only way,” said Dru. “I know this is new to you…”

“You’re telling me there’s a _curse_ on me. It’s one thing to believe that vampires are real… and that part’s still a bit much…”

“Would you like a demonstration?” she asked.

“Dru, are you sure?” asked her husband, clearly uncomfortable with whatever it was she had in mind.

“A demonstration?”

“You’ve seen them… been attacked. You’ve seen things you can’t explain – but like most people, you don’t want it to be real,” said Dru, gently.

“We used to call it Sunnydale Syndrome,” said Buffy. “But I think it’s just human nature.”

“Human nature?”

“Denial,” said Buffy. “Mostly, it makes our job easier, actually.”

“Your job?” asked Kate, curiously.

“You stop the human bad guys. We stop… well, whatever else they throw at us.”

“Whatever, what?” Gibbs felt anger rising up in him. He’d been reluctant to follow these people into whatever delusion they’d been offering, but he’d never had an explanation for that day, and ever since Dru had echoed Jim’s cruel words, he’d been unable to get them out of his head. Now she was telling him that, not only was he cursed, and that it had probably cost him his family, but that if he didn’t want to lose ‘any more of the women he loved’, he had to try to break the curse.

“Demons, the end of the world… bad magic. The whole shebang.”

Buffy sounded almost flippant, but Gibbs could tell she was annoyed as well.

“So… you don’t just rescue random people from vampires, then? You save the world? Are you kidding me?”

“Yahuh,” said Buffy. “We just shut down a bunch of idiots in Las Vegas who were trying to make themselves a slayer army…”

“And of course, this didn’t make the news?”

“We have good friends in high places,” said Buffy. “Very high places. Besides, it was mostly in the desert.”

“Now you’re gonna tell me the president is in on your little joke.”

“Being a vampire slayer is a very big joke, Mr. Gibbs. One I’ve only died a couple of times for. In the line of duty as you guys call it. Well, three if you count when that shithead shot me. If you don’t want our help, go ahead and walk on out the door. On the scale of 1-10, of how batshit crazy our lives can get, your problem barely rates a one, so don’t let the door hit you on the way out!”

“Buffy!” Dru said sharply. “This is my house. _I_ decide who gets thrown out…”

“You want me to leave, I’m leaving,” Gibbs snapped.

“Sit the _bloody hell_ down,” said Spike.

“Or, what, you’ll make me?” Gibbs finger was in Spike’s face. For some reason, Spike wore a huge grin on that face. Gibbs wanted to punch him, but he wasn’t in the habit of hitting people who didn’t represent an immediate threat. Then both Dru and Buffy began to laugh.

“I think you should sit down, Mr. Gibbs,” said Patrick, his voice quiet, precise and somehow completely authoritative.

“Jethro…” Kate had stood up when he had, now she took a step forward. “Maybe we should just listen to what they have to say.”

“I have. I don’t know what party trick they’re playing… You can find out all kinds of things on the internet, you know that.”

“I think you know they’re telling the truth, Jethro.” Kate crossed her arms across her chest.

Gibbs stared at her. He gave her a dirty look; then he sat back down.

“OK, then! I’m having beer. Want a beer Mr. Gibbs?” asked Spike, heading toward the kitchen door.

“Thanks,” said Gibbs.

“I’ll take one too,” said Kate. “Please.”


	4. Stillwater

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've marked this complete, but if the muse allows, there will probably be one more short coda. I hope you like it, Flootz!

### Stillwater

**Stillwater**

 

“That was Jim’s family’s farm,” said Gibbs.

What he pointed at surprised even him. Even after all these years, the farm still lay abandoned. At some point, the big, modern barn Jim’s father had built had burned down, leaving the rusted out hulks of farm equipment open to the elements. The house that had been old, but well maintained when Jim had lived in Stillwater, had a haunted, creepy feeling to it that made him shiver. With all the development in the area, it made no sense that no one had purchased the place.

“That’s where your friend lived?” asked Dru, staring.

“It was… it wasn’t like that when he lived there,” said Gibbs.

“I can feel the bad magic,” said Tara. “I can taste it.”

“You’re not kidding,” said Willow, taking her wife’s hand instinctively.

“Taste it?” asked Kate.

“Tastes like sour milk… and ashes – n-n-not that I’ve eaten ashes or anything. Anyway… it’s… unpleasant,” said Tara, with a nervous laugh.

“Don’t tell me you can’t feel it?” asked Spike. “I know they’re witches, but it doesn’t take magic to feel that much badness.”

“No,” said Patrick. “It feels… wrong.”

“It’s creepy as hell,” said Gibbs. “Maybe that’s why no one bought it.”

“Curses are like that,” said Dru. “Your friend brought his darkness back home with him that day. Maybe he already was dabbling in something, before, from what you tell me. I’m not surprised it killed his family.”

“Killed them?” asked Gibbs.

“You didn’t know?” asked Dru.

“No,” said Gibbs. “I told you. I never talked to him after that day. In fact, I only saw him that one time. He didn’t come back to school that fall.”

“That explains a lot,” said Spike. “Even now, it smells like death.”

“And blood,” said Dru. “I shouldn’t be able to smell it after all these years, but I can. It must have been very violent.”

“They just… vanished,” said Gibbs. “No one ever talked about it. And I didn’t really want to know.”

“Probably because no one knew,” said Tara. “There’s magic here. It is so… dark; I doubt anyone has even been on that property in years. Even plants don’t like to grow near that much corruption. We should probably…”

“We should probably burn their bones after we’re done with the curse,” said Buffy. “One salting and burning coming up!”

“Wow!” said Kate. “And I thought the protective magic bags you gave us were weird.”

Buffy snorted. “Those are just the beginning of weird, trust me!”

“They won’t rest until we put them to rest,” said Patrick. “We have friends who travel all over the country, hunting for evil and shutting it down. They do this sort of thing a lot. Unsettled spirits can cause a lot of havoc.”

“First, we need to go to the source. They’re not the only ones who can’t rest.”

“I don’t follow,” said Gibbs.

“The one who cursed you. The coyote you killed. If it was really a coyote…” said Dru. “I can feel them. It’s like a psychic scream.”

“If it was…” Gibbs stopped, unable to either understand or process what she was saying and irritated by the whole business because if it. “You know what, don’t tell me!”

“Curses are ugly things. They spread ripples… and sometimes those ripples come back…” said Dru.

“Like Angel and Jenny?” said Buffy.

“Angel and Jenny?” asked Kate.

“Long, ugly story,” said Buffy, suddenly reluctant to talk about it.

“A vampire named Angelus killed a gypsy girl. Family cursed him. One hundred years later, the curse backfired. He ended up killing two of the last surviving family members,” said Spike.

“A hundred years?”

“Curses are durable,” said Buffy. “Today’s lesson. Don’t curse anyone.”

“Sounds like very good advice,” said Kate, dryly.

“Not in my plans,” said Gibbs, continuing to walk along the path that led to the place in the forest he’d avoided for so many years.

 

I am the one who guided you this far  
All you know and all you feel  
Nobody must know my name  
For nobody would understand  
And you kill what you fear  
And you fear what you don't understand  
I call you for I must leave  
You're on your own until the end  
There was a choice but now it's gone  
I said, "You wouldn't understand  
Take what's yours and be damned"  
_(Duke’s Travels; Duke by Genesis)_

 

They arrived at the clearing around one in the afternoon. Gibbs stood where he’d stood that day years before, a feeling of sadness enveloping him.

“It looks the same,” said Gibbs. “As if time stopped.”

“I think it did,” said Dru, putting her hand up, in a gesture oddly reminiscent of the one the man had made all those years ago, her palm facing forward, all five fingers splayed. Almost as though she was pushing on something Gibbs couldn’t see.

“It’s protected land,” said Tara, sounding almost awestruck.

“I feel… so sad,” said Kate. “It’s not… it’s not my imagination, is it?”

“No,” said Willow. “This place… it was created from love. Created and protected.”

“But he cursed us?” asked Gibbs. “I don’t understand…”

“I don’t think…” Tara stepped forward, out of the gloom. “I don’t think it was a curse. I think it was a cry of pain. Which… might actually be worse.”

Willow’s sharp intake of breath made Gibbs stare at her. She seemed lost in some anguished memory. Buffy squeezed her shoulder, and she seemed to shake it off.

“Worse? Why?” When no answer was forthcoming, Gibbs tried to follow Tara, but Willow grabbed his arm.  
  
“Wait!” said Willow.

“Oh Goddess,” said Tara, stepping further forward, and almost seeming to shimmer in the sunlight. “I understand. Yes, I see.” She nodded as if she were listening to someone; then raised her face and arms up. “Let me in! O Gods of the four winds, we entreat thee, let the heroes of the people pass!”

She turned a full three hundred and sixty degrees, chanting softly in language Gibbs didn’t recognize. Her voice was suddenly like water and thunder at the same time. Gibbs couldn’t breathe. Tara’s eyes glowed white. Then she turned at looked directly at Gibbs.  
  
“Come!” she commanded.

Gibbs stared for a moment before stepping forward. He felt himself pass through something… but there wasn’t anything there that he could see. Tara’s hand touched his face; then she flung her hand forward in a gesture as though throwing something up into the sunlit sky.  
  
“He is penitent,” she said softly. “He is uncorrupted.”

She touched his face again, and gathered the tears that were by now streaming down. Gibbs felt himself shaking, as if he was back in the desert that day on his knees. Five times she touched his face, and it was only the last time, he realized what Tara was throwing. His tears.  
  
“I’m so sorry,” he said, not really knowing who he was talking to. “I’m so sorry.”

Then Tara bowed her head. He couldn’t hear her words, but her voice had a soothing effect; though his tears still flowed, he felt… lighter. The fear and foreboding that had been sitting like twin millstones in his gut for days since he had decided to come back here... were gone.

A warm body pressed against his, and familiar arms enveloped him from behind. He drew in a deep breath, exhaling slowly and letting himself be held.

“It’s OK,” said Kate. “It’s going to be OK.”

“I know,” he whispered, his hands finding hers at his waist, and covering them with his own. Her arms only tightened their hold on him. He hadn’t felt so safe in years.

Next to him, Dru spoke quietly. “I think we’re ready to begin.”

 

Tara had led them onto the protected land. Whatever she’d done, they’d been able to enter safely. Apparently, that had been a concern! This time the warriors took the lead. Buffy went first, followed by Dru and Spike. Then Gibbs; followed by Kate and Patrick. The two witches entered last, holding hands. They were chanting even as Buffy stepped over the threshold of the rustic cabin.

“We’re OK,” said Buffy, dropping her hand from where it had been hovering just above her dagger. Gibbs knew this part. They were clearing the room. He wondered why they weren’t holding weapons, but they were clearly prepared to fight, and he’d seen two of them fight already. Buffy walked straight forward, cautious, but confident, looking around for any threats, though to his eye, there appeared to be none. Dru turned left. Spike right.

The space was divided into three sections. At the center was what passed for a main room through which they’d entered, a room that was open to a kitchen area to the left. It was furnished, simply, but comfortably… It was clean, and though there was no sign of any inhabitants, it didn’t look abandoned. Just still and almost too quiet, as if the sounds outside were attenuated somehow. Gibbs felt almost as if he were on holy ground. It was a very odd feeling, considering the basic, rustic place. There was a door to the right, which Gibbs guessed must be a bedroom.

“Here,” said Spike, his voice sounding almost broken. “In here.”

The room was bigger than Gibbs expected, and Gibbs stopped in the doorway next to Spike and stared. On the bed was a man… what was left of him, his mummified body wrapped around the body of an enormous grey creature. The skin stretched over the man’s frame was darkened and mummified, though the hair still seemed as thick and silvery as it had that day he’d first seen him. The creature, slack in death, was long and lean, its silver coat largely unchanged, but for a darkened area around the entry wound.

“Is that a wolf?” asked Kate.

“Don’t rightly know,” said Spike.

“They are mystical,” said Tara. She reached forward, one hand hovering inches above each body, but not touching. Her eyes closed and she swayed a little before opening her eyes and nodding. “They’re a bonded pair.”

“A bonded pair?” Gibbs echoed, ready to argue that they weren’t even the same species. Then it hit him that the ridiculous statement fit everything about that day, and the enormous flood of grief he’d seen – and felt – that day, and the day he’d learned his wife was dead.

“There’s a legend,” said Willow. “I’ve heard of this. In India it is snakes – Naga and Nagin, they are called. In Europe or north America, it is usually wolves… or I think in this case, wolf-coyote hybrids. I think.”

“But he’s a… he’s human,” said Kate.

“No, Willow’s right. They’re shape shifters,” said Buffy. “You can see it in him. How lean he is. His hair. I bet his coat was silvery too. You can feel it, if you know what you’re looking for. I always could feel it in Oz. Something more than human.”

For some reason Willow nodded her agreement at this.

Willow continued the explanation. “Giles told us about them… after one hundred years, they get the ability to take human form at will. They can exist in either form - and they can live - well, no one’s exactly sure, but it is a very long time. Usually, they can’t be seen by humans without mystical senses. Your friend was probably magical, even if he didn’t know it.”

“Or you are,” said Dru. “Maybe both.”

“It’s very faint,” said Tara, gazing at him very intently. “It was probably stronger before this happened. I think your friend was involved in or close to some very dark magics. I wasn’t sure before, but it makes the most sense.”

“Do you remember anything odd about him?” asked Dru.

“Weird stuff seemed to happen around him at school. Stuff got broken… little accidents…” Gibbs said. “He didn’t really have many friends.”

“Sounds as if his magic was awakening,” said Tara. “Maybe he got involved with the wrong crowd.”

“I don’t know. It seemed like he had something going on at home, but I’m not sure what.”

 

**Freedom**

 

The ritual itself was simple enough from what Gibbs could tell. Candles were lit at the head and foot of the bed. A candle was placed on either side of the bed as well. Tara and Willow inscribed symbols onto the floor and placed a candle on each. Gibbs watched as Willow drew dozens of items from a worn cloth bag the size of Kate’s backpack. No way was all of that inside a bag that small! There was some kind of magic to it, he supposed. This was all very overwhelming. He glanced at Kate, but she just smiled at him, observing everything with interest, but appearing to take it all in stride.

Willow drew a circle around them – including the bed, which necessitated pulling the bed from the wall just far enough to create the circle. Gibbs went to assist Spike, but Patrick shook his head. Buffy and Spike lifted the bed gently, as if it weighed no more than feathers, setting it down just as carefully. The precious cargo on the bed remained undisturbed.

“This is where you need to stand,” said Tara in that soft, but still commanding manner she had. “Willow and I will be here at the head. Patrick, please stand to my left, and Dru, take his hand. Gibbs and Kate, stand at the foot of the bed, please. Spike, then Buffy, you hold Will’s hand. Everyone hold hands, please.”

Each person was next to their partner. Gibbs had a feeling that was no accident. Kate’s hand felt cool in his. Not as cool as Dru’s, however. He noticed that Dru had wrapped what looked like an old rosary around both her hand and Patrick’s. One more mystery about her. She was definitely a vampire, but she went to church, and she appeared immune to the things vampires were supposed to be affected by – sunlight, holy objects – and Buffy had told him that wasn’t a myth when she’d given him what she called ‘vampire killing 101’. Yet, both Dru and Spike had walked through the forest with them at the height of noon. Dru in particular, seemed to savor the sunlight. Gibbs forced himself to focus.

Only Tara and Willow weren’t holding hands at the moment. Tara was chanting in what sounded like Latin, and Willow was blowing different colors of powder off her hands… where it vanished, instead of falling onto the bed or its too-still occupants. Both women seemed to be almost luminous, as if they were full of light, somehow. Where Willow’s glow was golden and put Gibbs in mind of a sunlit forest, early in the morning, Tara radiated an ethereal whitish blue, which gave her an almost angelic look. Gibbs’ breath caught in his throat. This all felt unreal… and way too real.

“OK, we all hold hands now. Don’t let go, no matter what you feel,” said Willow, taking Buffy’s hand, then Tara’s. “It may get very intense – angry, sad. It could even get violent.”

The sand that Tara had poured around the perimeter of the room began to glow first. Then the candles lit themselves.

Once again, Gibbs found himself in tears, full of emotion. Around the room, that emotion was reflected in each face and there was a mix of grief and love that filled him, overflowing in sobs he couldn’t seem to repress. But for once, he didn’t feel the need. He felt Kate’s grip tighten and glanced at her. She was smiling at him, her eyes full of caring, tears on her own face.

Yet again, he felt something in himself loosen. As though another invisible ring that bound his chest had been broken. He breathed deep, and that was when the room seemed to change. In its place was a field. Two pups raced squealing through the light brush, yipping and rolling and bounding through the countryside. The terrain changed to snow, and the same two now near full grown wolves rolled in the snow. What Gibbs saw frightened him at first, because it seemed almost as though they were trying to kill each other, teeth bared and growling. Then one or the other would race off, followed by the other, who would pounce from a distance. Then, eerily there were two humans in the same landscape… in water, on land, but it seemed as though there were just glimpses, interspersed with many more images of the wolves roaming the land.

Though their human faces appeared young – ageless even, their hair was already silvery gray. There was one walking along the river. It was the female… the woman. Alone. Where was the other one? Gibbs felt a pang of anxiety. Then there was a howl in the distance. Answered by the young woman. She turned her face up to the sky and gave an answering lupine howl. Then a blur of silver fur bounded out of the underbrush, racing headlong toward her. Her back was turned; she seemed unaware of the threat that raced toward her. Gibbs was seeing the scene of that day played out before him. Just as the wolf pounced, the woman transformed, and the rolling ball of wolves went flying into the water below with a huge splash. Where they were almost immediately human again, sharing a passionate kiss before she pulled him under the water giggling.

Everything from that sad day made sense now.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“We know,” said Spike and Buffy together, startling him. He stared at them, but they were looking off into the distance, as if they were seeing something he couldn’t. “But you came back.”

“Yes,” said Gibbs, “I had to. I understand.”

“So we can be free now,” said Buffy. Except it wasn’t exactly Buffy’s voice. The inflection was softer, yet just a bit husky… smoky, almost.

“I didn’t know,” said Gibbs. “I didn’t know what I was seeing.”

“You were tricked,” said Spike, his voice sounding American, huskier, and just a bit deeper. “You saw what he wanted you to see.”

“Jim?”

“His family. They wanted our land,” said Buffy. “But this land cannot belong to men. It is verdant because it belongs to the spirits of the forest. You may enter, but you cannot dwell here.”

“Oh,” said Gibbs. Greed. One of the oldest motives in the world. “But why me?”

“They were bound. When their grandparents arrived, they were allowed to be here, as long as they didn’t cut down or come past the forest. The brown ones honored the land. The pale ones who came after did not listen; could not see.”

“So Jim knew what you were?”

“We don’t know what he knew. Only that his mind was poisoned.”

“Why did you curse me?”

“I am sorry. In my pain, I just… wanted you to feel what I felt. That was all I remember feeling in my grief – and the blood sealed that. But blood… is strong. And I was dying even then. I couldn’t take it back. That one moment of anger when I saw him… and the gun you held. But even as I wished it, I recognized you meant no evil. I could feel it, but it was too late. I died in regret. It’s why we are still between worlds. We disrespected the land… _I_ disrespected the land – and I did it with my beloved’s blood.”

“Between worlds?”

“Our spirits are here, but our bodies no longer anchor us.”

“You’re stuck?” asked Kate. “How horrible!”

“But you can free us,” said Buffy.

“I can?” said Gibbs.

“You are full of love. We feel it in all of you.”

“All of us?” asked Gibbs.

“Yes,” said the woman’s voice through Buffy.

“The blood that bound us to you and cursed you was life blood. We are no longer corporeal. We cannot release ourselves or you,” said the man’s voice.

“That’s what I suspected,” said Tara. “The goddess guided us to you through Kate.”

“Then we are in your debt, Kate,” said the woman. “Micah and I.”

“Yes, Mischa is right,” said Micah. “We have only one more request of you.”

“We need life blood,” said Mischa.

“No!” said Kate, gripping Gibbs’ hand like a vice.

“Yes,” said Gibbs, certain he didn’t want to die, but just as certain he did not want Kate or anyone else to die for his mistake.

“You can’t,” said Kate.

“You misunderstand!” said Mischa. “We do not require your life. Just the blood of the living.”

“Oh.”

“Tell me what to do,” said Gibbs.

“This is blood magic,” said Micah, through Spike.

“Blood magic!” said Willow, sounding alarmed.

“It is not dark magic. We are animals. Our magic functions at the level of the will, not words,” said Micah.

“It must be freely given,” said Mischa. “We cannot require it of you, or take it from you.”

“I have a knife. Tell me what to do.”

“Make sure all of you are in contact with our bed. Our essences are tied to it.”

“Because of blood,” said Gibbs.

“Blood, love, and everything this place represents.”

“Pierce your hand and allow the blood to pool in your hand. Cover both palms with your blood and raise your hands. Align your will to ours. Let yourself feel how much we want this. Desire with us that we be released from our anger. That we be released from our limbo. That you be released from the curse of our grief,” said Micah.

“I do,” said Gibbs, plunging the tip of his knife into the fat pad of his palm, where it bled freely, but didn’t cut anything vital. He cupped his hand and watched as the blood pooled. “You don’t know how much.”

“Since you are human, you may wish to say it in words,” said Mischa.

“I… I desire with all my heart that you be free.” He clasped his hands together, spreading the blood. Then he raised his hands, like he had seen Micah do all those years ago. “I desire us to be healed, to be free. I am so sorry for hurting you.”

“Let go of your regret. Let go of your own anger at yourself,” said Mischa. “I forgive you.”

Gibbs was sobbing freely. Kate placed her hand on his shoulder. On the other, side, Dru did the same.

“Please. Place your hands on us,” said Micah. “Let us unseal the oath I made.”

Gibbs leaned down, placing his hands on Mischa’s fur, and Micah’s papery dry leg. He felt warmth beneath his hands, as both bodies began to glow. Then he saw standing in the center of the circle, the human figures of Micah and Mischa standing facing him, translucent, but animated. They both smiled at him.

“Thank you!” They spoke through Spike and Buffy again.

Then, suddenly, they were surrounded by trees, standing in an open clearing. The building surrounding them had crumbled away, even as he was watching the two lovers embrace for the first time in decades. Birds sang and the sounds of the land seemed to envelop them. As if time that had stopped was beginning to awaken again. The two lovers broke apart, and remained holding hands. They smiled at him, and both raised their ghostly hands so they touched palm to palm, and he felt again that wonderful warmth fill him.

“We wish you blessings and healing!” said Micah.

“We wish you love and light and laughter!” said Mischa.

Then they turned and loped away. Then they were two happy wolves, bounding off into the distance. Then they were gone.

“Wow,” said Kate. She hugged Gibbs, who hugged her back, burying his face in her hair.

“That was amazing,” said Willow.

“Yes, it was,” said Gibbs.

“So are you ready for the rest of your life, Jethro?” asked Dru.

“I think I am,” said Gibbs, breathing the fresh country air, and remembering how much he’d loved this place.

All of a sudden, it felt as if the future stretched out ahead, brilliant and hopeful. The dark, solitary life he had lived so long was nowhere to be seen. Hand in hand with his woman, he took the next step forward.

_________

Author's note: I've marked this complete, but if the muse allows, there will probably be one more short coda. I hope you like it, Flootz!

Peace,

Blue

You have reached the end of "The Curse of the Wolf". This story is complete.


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